


like sand, it slips

by politeia



Series: Sasusaku-Headcanons [2012-2014] [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Family, Gen, Old Fic, Sarada Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/politeia/pseuds/politeia
Summary: As a child, she used to look forward to Papa’s arrival as he brings with him all kinds of toys and dresses and books and as he’s Papa. But as time went by, Papa’s arrivals became too few and far in between and his departures came too soon. Mama acts like it doesn’t bother her. She smiles and kisses him and wishes for his safety. Sarada realizes that *she* is not okay with it and allows herself to hate Papa and his ways. Why isn’t he always home?- anon request
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Sarada, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Sarada & Uchiha Sasuke
Series: Sasusaku-Headcanons [2012-2014] [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765711
Kudos: 34





	like sand, it slips

**One.**

He is not like mama – that is how far Sarada’s thoughts take her for now.

She cannot articulate how _this person_ comes and goes. How he is not constant, how he is a fleeting almost-never-there presence. All she knows that he is _not like mama_. 

So she hides behind a skirt, warily glances at him from beneath furrowed brows, and cries when she is passed from her mama’s safe, warm arms to his open, yet uncertain ones. 

She cannot understand, either, the new wounds she cuts into an already battered heart. She cannot know this, has no way of knowing it, and it is not her fault. It is _his_.

* * *

**Three.**

By now, she knows enough to call him _Papa._

She runs happily and confidently towards his waiting arms whenever his looming presence graces their doorway, and chatters endlessly about everything and nothing while he listens more intently than even mama or aunt Ino or even Uncle Naruto. She holds her hand out expectantly for the gifts he always brings – pretty dolls, or pinwheels, or paper kites. And she kisses him on the cheek and wraps her arms about him as they both head to wherever mama is at the moment.

She likes him, this man who smells of sunlight and pines and sea and earth and faraway lands.

She knows enough, now, to bask in his attention whenever it is available, because she finds that soon, always too soon, it will be taken away again.

But she cries whenever he goes, she screams and rages and begs. And mama always tells her to stop, and pries her little arms gently but firmly away from her papa’s legs. Sarada always makes it as difficult as possible, so mama throws bribes and threats and empty promises just to get her to relent.

She feels _angry_ at mama, whenever she does this. After all, mama cries too, though she always does it when papa is already gone and when she thinks there is no one to see. So mama has no right to be angry at her for doing the same thing.

* * *

**Five.**

Sarada makes less of a fuss about his comings and goings now. She carries herself with the dignity and pride befitting an academy student – the top one, at that.

He still brings her gifts, but better ones this time. Books and dresses and _Kunai_ and _Shuriken_ and metal wires. She loves these gifts, but she loves his presence even more.

So she gives him something in return too, stories about school and papers bearing proof of her good grades. He claims that this is the best gift she could ever give him, and is always happy to hear about her progress. She always wishes, though, always hopes, always prays, that maybe one day her gifts will be enough to make him stay.

They train together, sometimes, and she cannot help but be impressed by her father’s skill. He is a legend among shinobi, and she cannot be prouder.

She learns from him, learns about taijutsu, ninja theory, calculating kunai trajectories, and sometimes the occasional ninjutsu. She also learns to cherish the days when he is home, because they are _better_ days, _beautiful_ days, when mama’s smile is brighter than it usually is, when papa – though still stern and stoic – seems _soft_ and content, when they feel more whole, more like a family, than they ever do in his absence.

Of course, this bubble of perfection is always burst, for papa always seems to have something important to do, somewhere important to go.

She doesn’t cry anymore, though. She merely stands with mama as they exchange their goodbyes. Mama kisses him on the cheek, hugs him, and wishes him a safe trip. Sarada hugs him too, and leaves him with a list of gifts she wants _next time_ , for there always is one – a next time, that is – and until then, she will study and train and wait and hope _._

* * *

**Seven.**

Papa teaches her the _katon goukakyuu no jutsu_. He tells her how important it is for their clan, how his own father, her grandfather, taught him, and how he would now pass the technique to her.

She trains for days to master it, trains enough to almost feel as if the lake is her second home. She comes home every night, cheeks and lips blistered, and thanks the gods that her mama is the most excellent medic nin in the world. Mama makes the pain go away, as she always does. Afterwards, she buries her head in her mama’s chest, sinks into her warm and soothing embrace, and sleeps.

Each night, she teeters on the edge of giving up. But Sarada has her mother’s strength, and this is what makes Sarada get up the next day to try again.

Finally, _finally,_ after what seems like forever,she learns to breathe fire.

She transforms the lake into a fiery inferno, better than any Uchiha has before and better than any Uchiha ever will, though she has no way of knowing it.

In the aftermath, she stands engulfed in hot steam, her entire body ringing with her victory. Her skin stings and burns and she can already feel the blisters forming, but she is basking in the glow of her father’s pride, and she finds that she does not mind the pain a bit.

‘ _You are truly an Uchiha_ ’, he tells her. But all she can think of is that she is her mother’s daughter. And that she is _strong_.

It is the happiest that she has ever been. And she thinks, for sure, that this time, _this time_ , she has made him proud enough for him to finally, _finally,_ stay.

But he doesn’t.

And she learns, then, of another Uchiha legacy. She learns to _hate_.

* * *

**Nine.**

She knows enough now to see the gifts for what they are – bribes, _apologies_.

She still accepts them, but with far less enthusiasm, far less warmth. She sets them aside, too quickly, too soon, barely even looked at, and relishes the frown that mars his lips, the hurt that clouds his eyes. She cuts wounds again into his tattered heart, and this time she knows it.

He can apologize, but that does not mean she has to forgive.

Mama frowns at her too, disapproving, disappointed. Unlike her, mama is still enthusiastic, still welcoming, still warm, and Sarada cannot help but be annoyed at that. She knows for a fact that mama hates the fact that papa is never home; mama aches with every moment that she misses her wayward love, though she always smiles through the hurt. When will she be angry, when will she decide that she has had _enough_? There has to be a limit to her martyrdom.

After all, Sarada has only been waiting for seven years, and already she is angry. Mama has been waiting for _so much longer_. Mama, if Aunt Ino is to be believed, has been waiting since she was twelve. If anything, she should be so much angrier. She deserves _so much more_ , and yet, and yet she _settles_. She smiles and waits, ever patient, ever loving, always to be taken for granted.

She tells mama this sometimes, but all she says is that papa has already been through too much, and that they should not add to his pain.

Sarada knows enough now to realize how unfair this is. Papa is not the only one with pain, after all. Mama hurts too. Hell, she, Sarada, hurts too – though she is loath to admit it.

She is also smart enough to know that it is not just papa’s fault. Mama should put her foot down and ask papa to stay at home, if not for her own sake, then for her daughter’s, and if not for her, then for the little boy who is already learning to walk but still cannot say ‘papa’.

But papa does not stay, and mama never asks him to.

So she rolls her eyes at them and tells them that she will be going out with Bolt to train. Bolt, at least, understands. He is not suffocating, not stupid, not hopeless, and not hurtful. She is _happy_ when she is with Bolt.

Her parents, she cannot quite stand. But mama is constant, at least, and is always there when Sarada or Hikaru needs her. Papa, on the other hand, is never there, so always, _always,_ she finds that she cannot stand him more.

In fact, these days, she finds that she prefers his absence, rather than his presence.

* * *

**Twelve.**

Sarada is twelve when her papa finally stays.

Mama is very happy, little Hikaru is happy, and though it’s not very easy to tell, papa is happy too. So Sarada decides that she will be happy as well.

She ruffles Hikaru’s hair affectionately and promises to bring him some treats when she gets back, embraces her mother and father and promises them that she will be extra careful and that she will remember all that they taught her.

She does not miss how her papa lingers a bit, hesitance killing words before they leave his lips. Mama stands with him, takes his hand in hers, and holds it tight. At this, papa relaxes slightly.

There is pride, but also immense sadness, in her papa’s eyes, but Sarada isn’t too worried. It has always been that way with him, after all; his happiness has always been peppered with regret and melancholy, tinged with the tragedies of the past, tainted with the sins of a lifetime, and shadowed by fears of the future.

Mama is there to take care of him, though, and she is sure that Papa will be okay. Besides, Sarada has to admit that part of her thinks that it is nice that, this time, he will be the one to wait.

So she turns around and walks out of the village gates with Konohamaru-sensei, Lee Jr., and an excited, hyper, cannot-be-contained-at-all Bolt. Sarada smiles contentedly, and does not look back, even as they pass the gargantuan wooden doors. She looks forward, ever forward, into the rising sun and the open future. She and her friends banter and laugh as they embark on their very first mission as a team, and Sarada thinks, _knows,_ that it is her turn now to write her own story into the world.

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> posted on sasusaku-headcanons last November 23, 2014 [[link](https://sasusaku-headcanons.tumblr.com/post/103344000966/48-like-sand-it-slips)]


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